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The Secret Man: An American Warrior's Uncensored Story
Chronicles the exploits of a former CIA hitman who performed highly classified missions and who masked his covert operations under his international reputation as a martial arts black belt
316 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1996
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
September 2, 2009
This book is a literary fraud.
See STOLEN VALOR pp 411-417
Not only is everything in this book a lie,
the author never served in Vietnam.
After 6 months active duty in California, he was given a discharge,
because a psychiatrist evaluated him and recommended psychiatric therapy.
Because he illegally wore military decorations he didn't earn,
the US attorney in Los Angeles recommended that Dux be prosecuted.
He also had been arrested for spousal abuse.
See STOLEN VALOR pp 411-417
Not only is everything in this book a lie,
the author never served in Vietnam.
After 6 months active duty in California, he was given a discharge,
because a psychiatrist evaluated him and recommended psychiatric therapy.
Because he illegally wore military decorations he didn't earn,
the US attorney in Los Angeles recommended that Dux be prosecuted.
He also had been arrested for spousal abuse.
March 19, 2014
The number of factual errors in this alleged autobiography would stun James Frey and Stephen Glass. General John Singlaub directed the Phoenix Project? No. Bill Casey was short? No. A Makarov pistol is incredibly heavy? Hell, no.
Even if we put those objections aside, the book is crap. It reads like Tom Clancy fanfic, complete with cheesy dialogue, poorly motivated plot developments, and tales of derring-do.
Dux's actual military records are public, and they don't support even a little of his story. As for that 300-man kumite, where are all those guys he beat, and where were their trainers, cutmen, cornermen, etc.? What secluded island would not make note of such a giant influx of people, yet be small enough that the secret could be kept?
Sorry, Frank, but it's no dice. You've committed the worst error a self-aggrandizing BS artist can make: You're boring.
Even if we put those objections aside, the book is crap. It reads like Tom Clancy fanfic, complete with cheesy dialogue, poorly motivated plot developments, and tales of derring-do.
Dux's actual military records are public, and they don't support even a little of his story. As for that 300-man kumite, where are all those guys he beat, and where were their trainers, cutmen, cornermen, etc.? What secluded island would not make note of such a giant influx of people, yet be small enough that the secret could be kept?
Sorry, Frank, but it's no dice. You've committed the worst error a self-aggrandizing BS artist can make: You're boring.
January 14, 2016
Oh my god ! This book is amazing.
So, much BS. There isn't a thing in this book that can be fact checked.
All stories have a feeling of a person that needs to validate themselves and gain attention of random people.
Great read. Like a Jean Claude van Damme movie in book form.
So, much BS. There isn't a thing in this book that can be fact checked.
All stories have a feeling of a person that needs to validate themselves and gain attention of random people.
Great read. Like a Jean Claude van Damme movie in book form.
September 26, 2010
i enjoyed the story, read it, cover to cover and had a blast doing so. a great read, a good read.
July 21, 2012
It's a very interesting read BUT I'm not so sure about how truthful it is. I believe Frank Dux may have embellished quite a bit, however, IF NOT then he should be the Man of the Century!
November 12, 2018
A ghost written fable that is a sequel to the 1980's film "Bloodsport." It was entertaining though. Dux should have given credit to his ghostwriter.
February 2, 2026
Dux is a legend, perhaps only in his own mind, but still.
This book reads like a spy novel penned buy an author who read a lot of spy novels, but maybe bit off a little more than he could chew by trying to write one.
All that being said, it is an entertaining read. The only gripe I have with the content, as I don't care about whether or not Dux is a bullshitter, is that the book is scatterbrained.
The bulk of the book is about Dux's exploits as former CIA Director Bill Casey's top 'Secret Man,' however, there's one chapter that details a rivalry between Dux and one of his former martial arts students who later went on to have some kind of relationship with Dux's ex-wife who also had it in for Dux. The whole chapter seems kind of lame and low-stakes when surrounded by the stories of this globetrotting, neck-snapping, gun-wielding, unofficial CIA operative.
———————————————————————————
Some of my favorite bits are about Special Agent Frank's sexual exploits:
Page 10 - 'One perfectly romantic evening, I was ready to climax...'
Page 12 - 'I found myself captivated by a vibrant, dark-skinned woman in Beirut ... She'd gently remove my clothes and make love to me at the most spontaneous moments and in the most outrageous locations.
One day, excited just looking at her, I used a lighter to trip the sprinkler system in her office. Drenched, her white blouse and skirt became transparent and pressed against her figure, exposing just a garter belt and stockings. I wasted no time ripping her sopping clothes from her body. With each orgasm, she quivered in my arms, unlike the quiet, more subdued lovers I'd grown accustomed to back home.'
Page 96 - 'At a party, a friend introduced me to a woman so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off her. Luckily, I didn't have to. We didn't leave her bedroom for three and a half days ... I can't speak for her, but I had a hell of a lot of tension to release.'
Page 99 - 'Unfortunately, the honeymoon with my extraordinary woman didn't last long. She sensed that I would be leaving soon. Perhaps I unconsciously prepared myself for having to leave and began to draw away. I envisioned leaving a long-stemmed rose on her pillow and my passionately scribbled words on that card that I placed against the stained glass lamp of her antique end-table as she lay there, naked and fast asleep, only her hair blanketing her shoulders. From the next room flowed the strains of the Moody Blues 'Nights in White Satin.''
———————————————————————————
Dux's unique relationship with former CIA Director Bill Casey is another highlight:
Page 25 - '"I know it all," - CIA Director Bill Casey. "The Marines. Never doing a real tour of duty. Never attending any of the required MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) schools, never serving the necessary one hundred and thirty days of active duty. Of course Foresman (some other CIA or DoD bigwig) made sure you got special warfare training and performed clandestine ops from the inside."'
Page 68 - 'When I met with (Bill) Casey, a practice that would become less and less frequent over the years, he brought me up to date and showed me the murder weapon, a KGB poison dart propelled by compressed oxygen from a firing mechanism easily disguised in an umbrella or a rolled-up newspaper ... The technology was years behind what was currently available: darts of almost microscopic size.'
Page 129 - 'Casey wanted me to leave right away ("You're going to the Middle East"), but I somehow talked him into letting me take a well-deserved vacation first. Once I got him to say yes, I hoped he stayed busy enough to forget me for a while. I was lucky. He did, and as a result, I got to spend several weeks at home. I even had time to teach some martial arts classes and hit the beach at Zuma for a couple of days.'
Secret Man Dux talking shop and giving us outsiders a little insight into the inner-workings of the CIA and the criminal underworld is another highlight:
Page 110 - 'The smartest and most talented pickpockets I've employued while on assignment have been from Sarajevo ... On an average day they can make more money than a mid-level dope dealer can in a week.'
Page 114-15 - 'Mercs had hangouts across the globe. In Paris, you could find mercs near the Rue de Martyr, the transvestite quarter and a place where the locals' hatred of the police would keep the most wanted felon's presence a secret.
Here, within this haunt of thieves and prostitutes, you sometimes discovered a human embodiment of strange innocence and wisdom, in such stark contrast to its surroundings that it left you astonished, even bewildered. One such incarnation manifested itself in the form of a Parisian boy called Kiki ... I listened with amusement to Kiki's conversations of politics and love, and his attempts to collect girls' phone numbers, despite the fact that he couldn't write. Kiki's comments often seemed the wisest of the lot, even though he was only five years old.'
Page 129 - 'Before long, though, I received a message from the usual unidentified caller to check my signal site, a streetlight at Wilshire and Barrington (an intersection in Los Angeles). There I retrieved an advertisement. Anyone esle paying attention to the flyer got a phone number with promises of a "miracle weight watch program." For me, the numbers indicated where I was to pick up my orders.'
———————————————————————————
Then there are some unitentionally, I presume Dux's intention based on the overall tone of the book, comedic passages:
Page 85 - 'I parked myself on a stool at the bar, next to a guy who looked like he'd lived most of his life right in that spot. The old man's smile revealed yellow, decaying teeth set in white gums. I could smell his bad breath where I sat. He hacked up a wad of phlegm and spat it to the floor, where it lay quivering against the sawdust and dirt. I don't think the action was directed at me. I think spitting was probably what he did when he didn't know what else to do.'
Page 89 - 'I gave him a half-hearted kick in the groin. He went down, gave a spasm, then vomited in the street.'
Page 115 - 'In my previous wanderings through Paris, I had happened upon many strange sights, but perhaps the strangest occured one month when dead cats seemed to appear everywhere. I learned later that the animal's bodies were filled with cocaine or heroin and then left at drop points. No one fooled with the carcasses except the drug buyers. Later, I adopted this ploy for my drops with the Soviets.' (Where was Dux finding these dead cats for his 'drops with the Soviets'?)
Page 166 - 'UCLAs referred to "Unilaterally Controlled Latino Assets," contract agents mostly from Ecuador, Paraguay, and Chile. They would give the operation a "Contra feel" (Contras were the anti-Communists backed by Reagan/the US who fought the Sandanistas in Nicaragua) and provide a buffer between the Agency (CIA) and the risk of exposure.'
Page 171 - 'General Reynaldo Perez Vega, nicknamed 'the Dog' and the number two man in Somoza's (Anastasio "Tachito" Somoza, President of Nicaragua over two non-consecutive terms, '67 to '72 and '74 to '79) despised National Guard. Bucky had posthumously renamed him General Dickless after an acquaintance of ours, a 25-year old seductress named Nora Astorga, lured Vega back to her room, where whe and three Sandanistas reportedly castrated 'the Dog' and then stabbed him to death.'
———————————————————————————
Then there are some incredibly vivid war stories from Special Agent Dux that, realistically, Dux could not have possibly experienced as written. Still, these stories make for an enthralling read:
Page 200 - 'With the light of day came the full horror of our surroundings. Slowly, the corpses emerged out of the darkness that hovered within the confines of the crater and drained away before the light. They had been there for several days, boiling under the sun and bloated to the point where buttons were ready to explode from their fatigues. We had barricaded ourselves against the rats that scurried and rustled ceaselessly among the bodies throughout the night. I stared at the bearded face of a dead Iranian (Iran-Iraq war) soldier, his mouth frozen open in a dark expression of surprise. Suddenly, the face began to tremble and contort, as if coming back to life, and out of the mouth issued the body of a rat, blinking its beads of eyes in the light, and then scampering off with what appeared to be the blackened remnant of a human tongue.'
Page 203 - 'The whistle blowers were children who operated as living mine detectors preceding the soldiers and clearing the way toward the Iraqi lines ... The whistle blowers and Iranian troops advanced steadily, despite the pounding of artillery. Now and then explosions punctuated the piercing whistles, and I witnessed the frail bodies of children flung skyward, often in pieces. The young voices of wounded children crying out in Farsi now joined the din. Nothing deterred the Iranian advance, however, and the jagged lines approached nearer and nearer, until I was able to make out the individual features of scared, dirty children and unshaven soldiers.
Abi (a mercenary type of guy who's part of Dux's team on this mission) hunched lower in the crater. He didn't want to see, knew better than to look and add to his list of nightmares to take into sleep. But suddenly an explosion rocked us, knocking me to the ground, and the body of a boy, no more than eight (years old), came flyuing head over heels into the crater, limbs dangling like discarded paper streamers, to land with an outstretched arm touching Abi's knee. Abi's startled shout was muffled with his mask, and dirt showered on top of us to settle in a thin layer over the corpses. I couldn't bear to look at the box, and for a moment I closed my eyes, a dangerous reaction, even though the mouth of the crater was now shrouded in slowly drifting smoke as thick as soot. But closing my eyes couldn't rid my mind of the image of the dead child. How many children had been sacrificed to this war? I wondered.'
Page 204 - 'The practice of sending children (Iranian child soldiers during the Iran-Iraq war) out on the battlefield as human mine sweeps, though, defied even my threshold of acceptance. It possessed a calculation that rivaled the extermination of the jews in the furnaces of the concentration camps or the use of skin as lampshades and flesh as candles.' (There is no record of the Nazis making candles from human fat or lampshades from human skin.)
Page 204 - 'I opened my eyes to look at the body of the dead boy. His eyes were open, already glazed. One arm had been torn off in the explosion. He wouldn't be needing it now. Already flies were buzzing around his bloody mouth and nostrils. I shuddered at the thought that the rats would not be far behind.
Staring at the crumpled figure jogged a memory, one of those memories one works hard to bury forever. But surpressed memories somehow find a way of rising to the surface to shock and surprise. In this case, I remembered Chester and Helms.
Helms was merely the handle I'd given to the older, street-wise trainer who showed me the ropes and steered an idealistic nineteen-year-old through the minefieldsat the beginning of my covert career. Together we pulled a short tour of duty in Laos, the CIA's tar baby.'
Page 208 - 'I tried, but I just couldn't shoot Chester (a little kid from the warzone that Dux was fond of). I'd never killed anyone...'
——— Seven pages later and Dux has become a certified killing machine.
Page 215 - 'I estimated the distance to my target and held my eye steady. My spotting scope was clear, with no crescent on the edge as the nearest Jeep entered the sight, and the crack of my rifle sounded loudly in my ears as I knocked out the Jeep's driver ... Quickly, I canted myh rifle a bit to the left, spotted, breathed, and dropped the gunner.'
Page 223 - 'The soldier moved in our direction. I hesitated. He obviously did not have the slightest hint that death awaited him here.
I thought of my dead companions lying in broken and scattered pieces out under the sun, and I remembered my father's pronouncement when telling me about the Holocaust: "When your neighbor rises up to slay you, rise up early in the morning and slay him first."
A well-placed bullet dropped him in his tracks. It went in like a dime and came out like a baseball.'
———————————————————————————
Then there's this insane account of Special Agent Frank using the uniform of a dead Iraqi soldier (Iran-Iraq war) to escape with the Iraqi military by pretending to be deaf from the combat and, therefore, unable to communicate with them and blow his cover:
Page 224-25 'Holding my breath, I ripped a uniform from on of the bodies, and then stripped my own, hiding my own fresher clothers under the pile of bodies. My flesh crawled as I pulled the Iraqi uniform over my limbs ... Then I bent over Abi, silently thanking him for the gift of his blood, which might help to save me. I smeared his blood, still fresh and not yet beginning to coagulate, across my face, and dipped as much as I could into my right ear. Perhaps, if necessary, I could pretent to have been deafened by a concussion.
A heavy vehicle, probably a troop truck, neared, engine straining. A screech of braked. Then shouts in Arabic, followed by the pounding of footsteps.
The footsteps halted and the excited voices babbled above me ... The voices gathered directly above me, and then hands grasped me, swinging my body up and out of the crater. Several men lifted me, panting as we jolted along. I could smell their sweat and their foul breath against my face. Once they almost dropped me, but I was finally hoisted into what I figured was the back of the truck.
Four soldiers (Iraqi) were with me in the back of the truck, but none paid any attention to me.'
Page 230 - 'I never did get a chance to personally avenge Abi, Lubo, and my other companions. And although I stewed and plotted for a while, other missions intervened, and I never did get the satisfaction of watching the traitorous Dike (a member of Dux's team who betrayed them) die.
Vengeance never brings back a life. Besides, wait long enough, and fate usually takes care of things for you.
Dike provides an example. Not long after our betrayal in Iraq, Dike, our explosives expert, blew himself up while defusing what was purported to be an Iranian bomb, although in retrospect, the design bore an uncanny resemblance to one of my own.'
Page 231 - 'I was the only one to survive the mission in Iraq, but the scars of my ordeal will never disappear.
Among other curses, to this day the legacy of my own experiences in Iraw and Iran is that I am filled with anxiety wehenever I see a child pick up a toy gun, or hear the piercing shriek of a whistle.
———————————————————————————
There's also an admission on Dux's part of having knowledge of an upcoming terrorist attack that he actively avoided but didn't warn anyone else about. Robert Ames, a CIA bigwig, and 63 other people were killed. Whoops! I'm thinking Double 00 Dux probably should have shared his info with someone.
Page 131 - 'We jerked to a halt in front of the Commodore Hotel. Ames (Robert Ames, then CIA's Chief Regional Analyst of the Middle East) suggested I leave my bags and then accompany him to the American embassy on the waterfront. I politely declined his invitation. My trip to El Salvador hadn't allowed much time for rest, and I hadn't been able to sleep on the planes ... Not only was tired and jet-lagged, but my father, relying on info from a friend in Israel, said that I should not go near the building (US embassy in Beirut, Lebanon). An informant in Iran had tipped them that an initial installment of big money had been recently issued to carry out a terrorist operation against American target in Beirut.
We made arrangements to meet the following day so Ames could brief me and provide names and information concerning my contacts. He took off in the taxi, headed for the embassy to confer with the CIA station chief, deputy station chief, and several CIA operatives and counter-terror experts ... The next day my skin crawled as I heard the excited babble of news in the Commodore's lobby. The seven-story embassy had been blown in half by a single truck loaded with powerful explosives. The entire midsection of the seafront building had collapsed, burying Ames and 63 others beneath the rubble. In a m,atter of seconds, the entire CIA Lebanese clandestine operations hierarchy had been wiped out.'
———————————————————————————
Special Agent Dux closes with a lighthearted anecdote:
Page 300 - 'Automatically, the memory of a sick joke I had heard years earlier in El Salvador comes to mind: Two Salvadoran soldiers passed by an old man in the street. One of them paused for a moment, seemed to debate something in his head, then turned and shot the old man in the back. "Why did you do that?" the other soldier demanded. "Curfew doesn't start for another half hour." "Oh, I know him," the soldier who had shot the old man replied. "He lives on the other side of town, and he never would have made it home in time."'
This book reads like a spy novel penned buy an author who read a lot of spy novels, but maybe bit off a little more than he could chew by trying to write one.
All that being said, it is an entertaining read. The only gripe I have with the content, as I don't care about whether or not Dux is a bullshitter, is that the book is scatterbrained.
The bulk of the book is about Dux's exploits as former CIA Director Bill Casey's top 'Secret Man,' however, there's one chapter that details a rivalry between Dux and one of his former martial arts students who later went on to have some kind of relationship with Dux's ex-wife who also had it in for Dux. The whole chapter seems kind of lame and low-stakes when surrounded by the stories of this globetrotting, neck-snapping, gun-wielding, unofficial CIA operative.
———————————————————————————
Some of my favorite bits are about Special Agent Frank's sexual exploits:
Page 10 - 'One perfectly romantic evening, I was ready to climax...'
Page 12 - 'I found myself captivated by a vibrant, dark-skinned woman in Beirut ... She'd gently remove my clothes and make love to me at the most spontaneous moments and in the most outrageous locations.
One day, excited just looking at her, I used a lighter to trip the sprinkler system in her office. Drenched, her white blouse and skirt became transparent and pressed against her figure, exposing just a garter belt and stockings. I wasted no time ripping her sopping clothes from her body. With each orgasm, she quivered in my arms, unlike the quiet, more subdued lovers I'd grown accustomed to back home.'
Page 96 - 'At a party, a friend introduced me to a woman so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off her. Luckily, I didn't have to. We didn't leave her bedroom for three and a half days ... I can't speak for her, but I had a hell of a lot of tension to release.'
Page 99 - 'Unfortunately, the honeymoon with my extraordinary woman didn't last long. She sensed that I would be leaving soon. Perhaps I unconsciously prepared myself for having to leave and began to draw away. I envisioned leaving a long-stemmed rose on her pillow and my passionately scribbled words on that card that I placed against the stained glass lamp of her antique end-table as she lay there, naked and fast asleep, only her hair blanketing her shoulders. From the next room flowed the strains of the Moody Blues 'Nights in White Satin.''
———————————————————————————
Dux's unique relationship with former CIA Director Bill Casey is another highlight:
Page 25 - '"I know it all," - CIA Director Bill Casey. "The Marines. Never doing a real tour of duty. Never attending any of the required MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) schools, never serving the necessary one hundred and thirty days of active duty. Of course Foresman (some other CIA or DoD bigwig) made sure you got special warfare training and performed clandestine ops from the inside."'
Page 68 - 'When I met with (Bill) Casey, a practice that would become less and less frequent over the years, he brought me up to date and showed me the murder weapon, a KGB poison dart propelled by compressed oxygen from a firing mechanism easily disguised in an umbrella or a rolled-up newspaper ... The technology was years behind what was currently available: darts of almost microscopic size.'
Page 129 - 'Casey wanted me to leave right away ("You're going to the Middle East"), but I somehow talked him into letting me take a well-deserved vacation first. Once I got him to say yes, I hoped he stayed busy enough to forget me for a while. I was lucky. He did, and as a result, I got to spend several weeks at home. I even had time to teach some martial arts classes and hit the beach at Zuma for a couple of days.'
Secret Man Dux talking shop and giving us outsiders a little insight into the inner-workings of the CIA and the criminal underworld is another highlight:
Page 110 - 'The smartest and most talented pickpockets I've employued while on assignment have been from Sarajevo ... On an average day they can make more money than a mid-level dope dealer can in a week.'
Page 114-15 - 'Mercs had hangouts across the globe. In Paris, you could find mercs near the Rue de Martyr, the transvestite quarter and a place where the locals' hatred of the police would keep the most wanted felon's presence a secret.
Here, within this haunt of thieves and prostitutes, you sometimes discovered a human embodiment of strange innocence and wisdom, in such stark contrast to its surroundings that it left you astonished, even bewildered. One such incarnation manifested itself in the form of a Parisian boy called Kiki ... I listened with amusement to Kiki's conversations of politics and love, and his attempts to collect girls' phone numbers, despite the fact that he couldn't write. Kiki's comments often seemed the wisest of the lot, even though he was only five years old.'
Page 129 - 'Before long, though, I received a message from the usual unidentified caller to check my signal site, a streetlight at Wilshire and Barrington (an intersection in Los Angeles). There I retrieved an advertisement. Anyone esle paying attention to the flyer got a phone number with promises of a "miracle weight watch program." For me, the numbers indicated where I was to pick up my orders.'
———————————————————————————
Then there are some unitentionally, I presume Dux's intention based on the overall tone of the book, comedic passages:
Page 85 - 'I parked myself on a stool at the bar, next to a guy who looked like he'd lived most of his life right in that spot. The old man's smile revealed yellow, decaying teeth set in white gums. I could smell his bad breath where I sat. He hacked up a wad of phlegm and spat it to the floor, where it lay quivering against the sawdust and dirt. I don't think the action was directed at me. I think spitting was probably what he did when he didn't know what else to do.'
Page 89 - 'I gave him a half-hearted kick in the groin. He went down, gave a spasm, then vomited in the street.'
Page 115 - 'In my previous wanderings through Paris, I had happened upon many strange sights, but perhaps the strangest occured one month when dead cats seemed to appear everywhere. I learned later that the animal's bodies were filled with cocaine or heroin and then left at drop points. No one fooled with the carcasses except the drug buyers. Later, I adopted this ploy for my drops with the Soviets.' (Where was Dux finding these dead cats for his 'drops with the Soviets'?)
Page 166 - 'UCLAs referred to "Unilaterally Controlled Latino Assets," contract agents mostly from Ecuador, Paraguay, and Chile. They would give the operation a "Contra feel" (Contras were the anti-Communists backed by Reagan/the US who fought the Sandanistas in Nicaragua) and provide a buffer between the Agency (CIA) and the risk of exposure.'
Page 171 - 'General Reynaldo Perez Vega, nicknamed 'the Dog' and the number two man in Somoza's (Anastasio "Tachito" Somoza, President of Nicaragua over two non-consecutive terms, '67 to '72 and '74 to '79) despised National Guard. Bucky had posthumously renamed him General Dickless after an acquaintance of ours, a 25-year old seductress named Nora Astorga, lured Vega back to her room, where whe and three Sandanistas reportedly castrated 'the Dog' and then stabbed him to death.'
———————————————————————————
Then there are some incredibly vivid war stories from Special Agent Dux that, realistically, Dux could not have possibly experienced as written. Still, these stories make for an enthralling read:
Page 200 - 'With the light of day came the full horror of our surroundings. Slowly, the corpses emerged out of the darkness that hovered within the confines of the crater and drained away before the light. They had been there for several days, boiling under the sun and bloated to the point where buttons were ready to explode from their fatigues. We had barricaded ourselves against the rats that scurried and rustled ceaselessly among the bodies throughout the night. I stared at the bearded face of a dead Iranian (Iran-Iraq war) soldier, his mouth frozen open in a dark expression of surprise. Suddenly, the face began to tremble and contort, as if coming back to life, and out of the mouth issued the body of a rat, blinking its beads of eyes in the light, and then scampering off with what appeared to be the blackened remnant of a human tongue.'
Page 203 - 'The whistle blowers were children who operated as living mine detectors preceding the soldiers and clearing the way toward the Iraqi lines ... The whistle blowers and Iranian troops advanced steadily, despite the pounding of artillery. Now and then explosions punctuated the piercing whistles, and I witnessed the frail bodies of children flung skyward, often in pieces. The young voices of wounded children crying out in Farsi now joined the din. Nothing deterred the Iranian advance, however, and the jagged lines approached nearer and nearer, until I was able to make out the individual features of scared, dirty children and unshaven soldiers.
Abi (a mercenary type of guy who's part of Dux's team on this mission) hunched lower in the crater. He didn't want to see, knew better than to look and add to his list of nightmares to take into sleep. But suddenly an explosion rocked us, knocking me to the ground, and the body of a boy, no more than eight (years old), came flyuing head over heels into the crater, limbs dangling like discarded paper streamers, to land with an outstretched arm touching Abi's knee. Abi's startled shout was muffled with his mask, and dirt showered on top of us to settle in a thin layer over the corpses. I couldn't bear to look at the box, and for a moment I closed my eyes, a dangerous reaction, even though the mouth of the crater was now shrouded in slowly drifting smoke as thick as soot. But closing my eyes couldn't rid my mind of the image of the dead child. How many children had been sacrificed to this war? I wondered.'
Page 204 - 'The practice of sending children (Iranian child soldiers during the Iran-Iraq war) out on the battlefield as human mine sweeps, though, defied even my threshold of acceptance. It possessed a calculation that rivaled the extermination of the jews in the furnaces of the concentration camps or the use of skin as lampshades and flesh as candles.' (There is no record of the Nazis making candles from human fat or lampshades from human skin.)
Page 204 - 'I opened my eyes to look at the body of the dead boy. His eyes were open, already glazed. One arm had been torn off in the explosion. He wouldn't be needing it now. Already flies were buzzing around his bloody mouth and nostrils. I shuddered at the thought that the rats would not be far behind.
Staring at the crumpled figure jogged a memory, one of those memories one works hard to bury forever. But surpressed memories somehow find a way of rising to the surface to shock and surprise. In this case, I remembered Chester and Helms.
Helms was merely the handle I'd given to the older, street-wise trainer who showed me the ropes and steered an idealistic nineteen-year-old through the minefieldsat the beginning of my covert career. Together we pulled a short tour of duty in Laos, the CIA's tar baby.'
Page 208 - 'I tried, but I just couldn't shoot Chester (a little kid from the warzone that Dux was fond of). I'd never killed anyone...'
——— Seven pages later and Dux has become a certified killing machine.
Page 215 - 'I estimated the distance to my target and held my eye steady. My spotting scope was clear, with no crescent on the edge as the nearest Jeep entered the sight, and the crack of my rifle sounded loudly in my ears as I knocked out the Jeep's driver ... Quickly, I canted myh rifle a bit to the left, spotted, breathed, and dropped the gunner.'
Page 223 - 'The soldier moved in our direction. I hesitated. He obviously did not have the slightest hint that death awaited him here.
I thought of my dead companions lying in broken and scattered pieces out under the sun, and I remembered my father's pronouncement when telling me about the Holocaust: "When your neighbor rises up to slay you, rise up early in the morning and slay him first."
A well-placed bullet dropped him in his tracks. It went in like a dime and came out like a baseball.'
———————————————————————————
Then there's this insane account of Special Agent Frank using the uniform of a dead Iraqi soldier (Iran-Iraq war) to escape with the Iraqi military by pretending to be deaf from the combat and, therefore, unable to communicate with them and blow his cover:
Page 224-25 'Holding my breath, I ripped a uniform from on of the bodies, and then stripped my own, hiding my own fresher clothers under the pile of bodies. My flesh crawled as I pulled the Iraqi uniform over my limbs ... Then I bent over Abi, silently thanking him for the gift of his blood, which might help to save me. I smeared his blood, still fresh and not yet beginning to coagulate, across my face, and dipped as much as I could into my right ear. Perhaps, if necessary, I could pretent to have been deafened by a concussion.
A heavy vehicle, probably a troop truck, neared, engine straining. A screech of braked. Then shouts in Arabic, followed by the pounding of footsteps.
The footsteps halted and the excited voices babbled above me ... The voices gathered directly above me, and then hands grasped me, swinging my body up and out of the crater. Several men lifted me, panting as we jolted along. I could smell their sweat and their foul breath against my face. Once they almost dropped me, but I was finally hoisted into what I figured was the back of the truck.
Four soldiers (Iraqi) were with me in the back of the truck, but none paid any attention to me.'
Page 230 - 'I never did get a chance to personally avenge Abi, Lubo, and my other companions. And although I stewed and plotted for a while, other missions intervened, and I never did get the satisfaction of watching the traitorous Dike (a member of Dux's team who betrayed them) die.
Vengeance never brings back a life. Besides, wait long enough, and fate usually takes care of things for you.
Dike provides an example. Not long after our betrayal in Iraq, Dike, our explosives expert, blew himself up while defusing what was purported to be an Iranian bomb, although in retrospect, the design bore an uncanny resemblance to one of my own.'
Page 231 - 'I was the only one to survive the mission in Iraq, but the scars of my ordeal will never disappear.
Among other curses, to this day the legacy of my own experiences in Iraw and Iran is that I am filled with anxiety wehenever I see a child pick up a toy gun, or hear the piercing shriek of a whistle.
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There's also an admission on Dux's part of having knowledge of an upcoming terrorist attack that he actively avoided but didn't warn anyone else about. Robert Ames, a CIA bigwig, and 63 other people were killed. Whoops! I'm thinking Double 00 Dux probably should have shared his info with someone.
Page 131 - 'We jerked to a halt in front of the Commodore Hotel. Ames (Robert Ames, then CIA's Chief Regional Analyst of the Middle East) suggested I leave my bags and then accompany him to the American embassy on the waterfront. I politely declined his invitation. My trip to El Salvador hadn't allowed much time for rest, and I hadn't been able to sleep on the planes ... Not only was tired and jet-lagged, but my father, relying on info from a friend in Israel, said that I should not go near the building (US embassy in Beirut, Lebanon). An informant in Iran had tipped them that an initial installment of big money had been recently issued to carry out a terrorist operation against American target in Beirut.
We made arrangements to meet the following day so Ames could brief me and provide names and information concerning my contacts. He took off in the taxi, headed for the embassy to confer with the CIA station chief, deputy station chief, and several CIA operatives and counter-terror experts ... The next day my skin crawled as I heard the excited babble of news in the Commodore's lobby. The seven-story embassy had been blown in half by a single truck loaded with powerful explosives. The entire midsection of the seafront building had collapsed, burying Ames and 63 others beneath the rubble. In a m,atter of seconds, the entire CIA Lebanese clandestine operations hierarchy had been wiped out.'
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Special Agent Dux closes with a lighthearted anecdote:
Page 300 - 'Automatically, the memory of a sick joke I had heard years earlier in El Salvador comes to mind: Two Salvadoran soldiers passed by an old man in the street. One of them paused for a moment, seemed to debate something in his head, then turned and shot the old man in the back. "Why did you do that?" the other soldier demanded. "Curfew doesn't start for another half hour." "Oh, I know him," the soldier who had shot the old man replied. "He lives on the other side of town, and he never would have made it home in time."'
December 3, 2011
Det är svårt att veta vad man ska tro om den här boken.
Jag såg Bloodsport första gången för många år sedan och fastnade för alla rekorden i slutet av filmen och det faktum att den skulle vara baserad på en verklig historia.
Frank Dux pratar inte alls speciellt mycket om sina matcher i kumite i boken, vilket jag tycker är väldigt synd. Han kommer ämnet ganska nära han han beskriver Bloodsport inspelningen, men med tanke på att han gick mer än 200 matcher så borde det varit med lite mer. Sen var det intressant att få reda på att karaktären Jackson, i filmen, är baserad på två personer, varav en svensk.
Hurvida hans insatser som udnerättelseagent är sanna eller inte känns som en omöjlig fråga att svara på, olika delar i boken talar både för och emot. Det som talar för är att det finns detaljer som känns för futtiga för att vara på hittade och en del av det som talar emot är att han inte gör så mycket alls på sina uppdrag verkar det som. Jag har inte svårt att tro att USA inte skulle använda sig av skuggagenter men om Frank Dux var en? Vet inte, jag tror nog det.
Bokens största problem är att den inte är speciellt välskriven och full med klyschor somnästan får en att rodna. Ända pluset emd boken är att jag numera vet lite mer om den nästa mytiska Frank Dux från en beundrad ungdomsfilm.
Jag såg Bloodsport första gången för många år sedan och fastnade för alla rekorden i slutet av filmen och det faktum att den skulle vara baserad på en verklig historia.
Frank Dux pratar inte alls speciellt mycket om sina matcher i kumite i boken, vilket jag tycker är väldigt synd. Han kommer ämnet ganska nära han han beskriver Bloodsport inspelningen, men med tanke på att han gick mer än 200 matcher så borde det varit med lite mer. Sen var det intressant att få reda på att karaktären Jackson, i filmen, är baserad på två personer, varav en svensk.
Hurvida hans insatser som udnerättelseagent är sanna eller inte känns som en omöjlig fråga att svara på, olika delar i boken talar både för och emot. Det som talar för är att det finns detaljer som känns för futtiga för att vara på hittade och en del av det som talar emot är att han inte gör så mycket alls på sina uppdrag verkar det som. Jag har inte svårt att tro att USA inte skulle använda sig av skuggagenter men om Frank Dux var en? Vet inte, jag tror nog det.
Bokens största problem är att den inte är speciellt välskriven och full med klyschor somnästan får en att rodna. Ända pluset emd boken är att jag numera vet lite mer om den nästa mytiska Frank Dux från en beundrad ungdomsfilm.
July 10, 2011
Similar to Tom Brown, Frank Dux has been the center of a lot of controversy. I am not sure whose version of events I believe, but...from a logical point of view, Frank Dux's claims are a bit sensational.
Did he do black ops for the CIA? Did he fight in an underground tournament? Some of the numbers don't add up. And some of the demonstrations he has performed looks more like trickery. (Breaking bullet proof glass and beer bottles.) His association with the Black Dragon society started by the extremely eccentric Count Dante further pushes a lot of claims in this book into the realm of make-believe.
But...I wasn't there, I didn't get the T-shirt, and I certainly won't say Dux isn't a good martial artist. Anyway, read the book, make up your own mind.
Did he do black ops for the CIA? Did he fight in an underground tournament? Some of the numbers don't add up. And some of the demonstrations he has performed looks more like trickery. (Breaking bullet proof glass and beer bottles.) His association with the Black Dragon society started by the extremely eccentric Count Dante further pushes a lot of claims in this book into the realm of make-believe.
But...I wasn't there, I didn't get the T-shirt, and I certainly won't say Dux isn't a good martial artist. Anyway, read the book, make up your own mind.
August 3, 2009
Very intriguing and exciting story of the man that lived the life portrayed by Jean Claude Van Damm in the movie Bloodsport.
We quickly learn that the movie was but a small drop in an amaqzing adventure of a life.
The writing is terrific as it carrys the reader along and keeps you engaged and on the edge of your seat
August 9, 2012
A fun read especially for a high school boy who just watched Bloodsport. If you keep that mind-set and enjoy it as a fantastic spy tale, you too will likely enjoy it. If you are worried about what might or could or could not have actually happened then I won't recommend this :)
October 16, 2008
This is the autobiography of the man that was featured in the Van Damme movie, "Bloodsport."
Interesting book...
Interesting book...
June 10, 2014
Mine was autographed ;-)
Great book. I don't care if people think there is factual errors. To the neg reviewers - critique the book, not the man.
Great book. I don't care if people think there is factual errors. To the neg reviewers - critique the book, not the man.
February 11, 2019
I read this book knowing full-well the claims in it are fraudulent and have been widely debunked. I was holding on to some hope the book would at least be entertaining. Unfortunately, it isn't. Dux's claims are so preposterous you can't even appreciate them as fiction, and try as you might you can never fully shake yourself of the knowledge this man actually professes this is a true story. There's a reason why this one has been out of print for so long. Steer clear.
December 26, 2022
Hard book to read considering this is the guy from the movie bloodsport. I had no idea the life he had left outside the kumite tournament. Very interesting and intense stories a true spy and warrior. The government involvement in Dux life and through that he finds ways to keep his life his own. The fact that this guy didn't totally go insane is a testament to his character. It also shows just how the government agency use and abuse people including their own.
March 3, 2019
It is a very well written book that has some great paced combat action ...I'm just not into that. As a fan of the movie "Bloodsport," I bought the book looking to read about the real Kumite, and I was sorely disappointed.
It's not a bad book, I just feel that a book about a man made famous by a martial arts tournament should talk about the tournament.
It's not a bad book, I just feel that a book about a man made famous by a martial arts tournament should talk about the tournament.
July 15, 2023
One would have to have cottage cheese for brains to believe a single claim of Frank's in this book.
August 8, 2016
It was ok, but I was more interested in his martial arts career than his work as a CIA Op. He barely mentioned any of his martial arts accomplishments and spent a lot of time covering his days with the CIA. I was kind of let down by this book.
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